Hostel Etiquette,

file:///Users/Anna/Desktop/We.doc

I really can't figure out how to copy and paste something that I've written in a word document on this blog.  It's pissing me off!

Anyway, What I basically want to say, is that i've been on 4 boats this week.  Two of which were ferries and two were hotels.  One of which I am sat on eating the dirtiest bacon sandwich in the world.  But I do have a nice view of Stockholm from the little port hole.

Travel day today.  Travel days just seem pointless!!

Wa wa wee wa.

I learnt an interesting fact yesterday via the wonderful yet, slightly deranged mind of Dev Hynes.  His fountain of information provided me with the knowledge that there is a certain level of Soy Sauce in the air in Japan. 

Does anyone know hostel etiquette?  

I like it in the city

For the first time since my 16th birthday, I have no real job to speak of.  That's a good 7 years of paying taxes, working stupid hours and having a regular wage slip to rely on.

I've spent too much time on Facebook, stalking people who I used to go to school with.  Now i'm starting to regret learning so much about these people.  I was happy enough not knowing anything about their lives.  Marriage, Babies, Proper jobs.....

For now, I think i'll enjoy living in a sightly grubby, back to back house in a dodgy part of Leeds - with the knowledge that i'm off to Europe in a couple of weeks - no baby sick for me, thanks. 

(Photo by Dev Hynes)

whiskey and coke please, bartender

I've just added John Fogerty as my friend on myspace.  I've been drinking and everything seems such a blur.  Someone told me that keeping a blog is seriously uncool.  Someone also told me that smoking is bad for your health.  Borrrrrrrrrrrring.

Nosey strangers on public transport

Like I said in my last post.  I should really sort this thing out into some sort of chronological order.  But I can't be bothered, nor am I ever in a logical mood.

 

Plus, I know the man sat next to me on the train is reading what I am writing. 

 

I am listening to the new Forward Russia album.  Can’t say I was a massive fan of their 1^st album.  But this one is MASSIVE.  Just thought I’d throw that one out there.

 

God, I can’t remember what I’ve been up to this week.  Maybe if I work backwards from now, It might make some sort of sense.

 

Right, I mentioned the DJing and the weird Hot Chip party that we never made it to in my last post.  That was Saturday.  Right, Friday.  Was that when I went to the Natural History Museum on my own?  I think it was actually.

 

I’ll start there. 

 

I woke up on Friday morning.  I felt pretty lousy after the NME awards and decided that I needed some culture to stop my mind from turning into a lump of pork sausages.  I needed to stare at some paintings and pretend that they moved me.  After failing to recruit anyone to join me on my cultural festivities, I set off for The Natural History Museum, via Liverpool St station, on my own. 

I boarded the circle line (the yellow one) and began reading my book.  I was sat next to a really fat businessman who kept reading the poems in my book.  These poems are particularly vulgar and he kept tutting and signing.  I was so close telling him to fuck off.  But thought it very impolite.  So I didn’t and let him carry on reading my crude poems over my shoulder.  Then I started thinking that if you’re going to fall asleep on the tube, the circle line is definitely the one to do it on.  Rather than the Victoria Line, I mean, who wants to end up in Brixton.

 

Which leads me on nicely to my night of fun, which involved Hot Chip again.

 

Victoria and I, being the socialites and well connected beings that we are, got some guest list for Hot Chip’s gig at Brixton Academy. 

That place is huge.  And it was absolutely rammed to the walls.  Gigs like that put me in a really bad mood.  I think it’s mainly because I’m too impatient and I hate having to queue for the bar/toilet/cash machine/anything.

I knocked into this bloke as I was moodily pushing by the riff raff at the bar, I didn’t apologise.  I wish I had done.

Bad mood aside, Vic and I headed up to the balcony and from there we viewed the gig in all it’s brass band induced glory.

 

As of late, I’ve been very complementary about London’s transport.  But the journey home from Brixton at 2.30 in the AM was like a head trauma.  But like most things, I was faced with the question: Would I rather spend 90p or £20 getting home….?  Just like I face the question most mornings: Do I spend an extra 10minutes in bed, or get breakfast/have a shower?

 

Judging by the state of my appearance most days, you can guess which wins.

My heart's skipping, skipping and I don't know why..

Tonight has been fun.

I DJ'd with Little Boots and intended to go to a weird Hot Chip party in a warehouse on Cambridge Heath Road.  But Sobered up rather drastically when I realised I had to get in a goods lift with 30 other sweaty bodies.  I started to assess the possible implications of fire and began to scan for reliable escape routes.  Of which, none existed.

So the moral of this story is, if you want to go to a Hot Chip party in a Warehouse on Cambridge Heath Road.  You'd better be twatted or be prepared to jumped out of a 4th story window...

I should really start doing these blogs in some form of chronology.